


Counting the Days

by noleftturnx



Category: The Dresden Files (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-27
Updated: 2015-04-27
Packaged: 2018-03-26 03:25:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3835192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noleftturnx/pseuds/noleftturnx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry/Murphy. TVverse with a hint of Bookverse. What happened to a certain picture. Second City spoilers (TV) Blood Rites (Books).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Counting the Days

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tigerkat24](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=tigerkat24).



> Originally posted to ff.net on April 22, 2007  
> tigerkat24 told me she wanted Harry keeping the photo, this is it. So this one's for you.

Five days. Five days of sleepless nights and irritating jibes from beyond the grave. Five days since she promised me she wouldn't slap me again. Five days since she walked out my door. Five days.

Four days ago, I broke down and went to the hell that is known as Wal-Mart. Lit up so brightly I could've sworn the building's massive parking lot could've been used as an alternate landing area for O'Hare. I'm not one to linger in this particular store. Always with some innate fear of having to pay for chainsaws, and marbles, and garden tools even though they're not in my cart. No, I definitely don't linger in Wal-Mart.

Three days ago, I finally took my purchase out of the blue plastic bag emblazoned with the annoying yellow smiley face. I tossed the bag into the air, allowing it to float lightly to the ground. It had no more touched down, than there was a loud thump and thirty pounds of fur launched itself at the evil plastic invader. I turned my purchase onto it's front, searching around me for the proper tool. After a quick detour to the kitchen, I came back to tackle the simple project well armed with a butter knife. Prying little metal tabs away from the cardboard backing with the knife, I set both aside. I slipped an image of a perfectly smiling someone off of the glass and tossed it in the near by waste basket. I took the glossy picture from my desk and slipped it into the frame in place of the generic perfectly smiling someone. Replacing the cardboard backing, I used the knife again to put the holding tabs back into place.

Two days ago, I finally figured out where to put the framed photo. I had tried my desk, but it didn't fit well with all the clutter. I tried the living area shelves where Bob's skull rested occasionally, but it didn't fit in there either. After placing it in half a dozen other locations throughout my apartment and office, I finally took it in hand and walked up the open stairs to my loft.

Yesterday, I woke to that perfectly captured image, in that severely inadequate Wal-Mart frame, sitting next to my Mickey Mouse alarm clock on my rickety bedside table. Yesterday was a good morning.

Today is even better than yesterday. Today, without the aid of borrowed sunglasses, ant poo, or crazed killers and depleted energy; today she didn't slap me.

Tomorrow can only get better.


End file.
